


perchance

by hulklinging



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, References to Canon-Typical Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 07:17:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8240978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hulklinging/pseuds/hulklinging
Summary: Jean has nightmares.
So too does Jeremy, much to his roommate's surprise.





	

In French, it's _cauchemar_.

A nightmare, just a bad dream, although for Jean what haunted him when he closed his eyes was far from some fantasy. Memories lunged at him, left him gasping for breath when he woke up, hands clutching the mattress beneath him as he gritted his teeth, trying not to make a sound, because he didn't want to be heard.

Sometimes he'd wake up and not be able to move at all, limbs frozen, something weighing him down, and he didn't want to open his eyes at all, sure that it was Riko sitting on his chest, grinning as blood ran down from a hole in his temple.

No one gets away, he'd remind Jean, and Jean swears he can feel the kiss of cold metal against his own temple.

Sometimes he still catches himself wishing he'd pull the trigger.

Although the nights still belong to his past, he has fewer and fewer days that feel shadowed by his past. He's getting better, day by day. In spite of everything.

When he hears someone cry out in the middle of the night, he slaps a hand over his own mouth, terrified of his own voice. Surely that comfort has not made him stupid.

But it's not him whimpering into his pillow, thrashing against the sheets. Like everything else he does, when caught up in his nightmares Jeremy Knox is larger than life.

Jean watches his roommate twist and turn. He knows better than to wake someone up from a nightmare, and there's an invisible line on the floor, one that separates his side of the bedroom from Jeremy's. He doesn't dare cross it, especially not after the sun's gone down. Instead, he watches and wonders what Jeremy could possibly be dreaming about that has him crying out in fear. Jeremy is like sunlight, necessary but still always finding it's way past the curtains to blind you.

Jean's eyes, used to the darkness of the Nest, have not yet adjusted.

What does Jeremy know about things that go bump in the night?

Jean is curious, but does not ask. Not the next morning, when Jeremy seems a little more sluggish than normal and yet insists on being just as chipper. No, he puts it out of his mind. Probably just an anomaly. He has more important things to worry about.

It happens again a week later. This time, Jean hasn't managed to fall asleep yet. This happens sometimes, where his body refuses to recognize that it's allowed a proper eight hours. He's reading by cellphone light, and uncomfortable enough in his own skin that he's actually considering shooting Renee a text, when Jeremy starts to cry out again.

"Knox," he hisses, trying to ignore the instinctual fear of _shut up, he'll hear._ "Knox, you're dreaming."

Jeremy doesn't hear him. Of course he doesn't. Jean sometimes wonders if he actually makes a sound, when the boy is not there to amplify him. Thoughts like this never get far, boxed up and shoved under the mess he's still sorting through, the mess that only comes out of years and years of...

Well.

Bad years.

He stays awake until Jeremy goes quiet again. The other boy never seems to fully wake, and again in the morning there's no mention of it. Not that Jean expects a full report of Jeremy's life. He's just been kept up by these nightmares twice now. Shouldn't the strange code of politeness and kindness that dictates Jeremy's life have something in it about explaining yourself to your roommate when your night terrors get out of hand? Maybe he's not even aware of the nightmares he's having.

Time number three comes after a particularly hard practice, which had been followed by a rough session with the shrink Renee is insisting he see. Jean hates it, hates the understanding in her eyes and her neat little lines of notes. He knows that he needs help, though, and he owes Renee. So he goes, and he comes back exhausted and spread thin.He just wants to sleep, and it's another night where he's not sure he wants to wake up, so of course he's jolted awake hours before his alarm by his roommate's screaming.

"No, please stop, please don't-"

"Knox, it's just a dream! Shut up!"

Jean's not even sure if he's speaking English, still caught in half a dream, tangled in the cobwebs of some story that is already slipping away. Jeremy is still screaming, so Jean growls his frustration and tosses his blankets aside. Before he can really think about it, he's over that imaginary line, standing over the other boy. His movements feel slow, like he's dragging his limbs through fog, like he's pushing himself through just one more practice on one of those stretches where he hardly slept at all. He wants to help, but everything he does feels somehow not his own. He can't imagine waking someone up without the threat of violence. He's not sure if his hands know how to touch without causing pain.

"Knox," he whispers, hands hovering over his form but not quite touching. "Jeremy, it's not real. Wake up."

Like his words carry some kind of power, Jeremy's eyes fly open. He stares up, unseeing, as his chest heaves. Jean stands there, even though he wants to crawl back into bed and deny ever getting up, until Jeremy's eyes slide back into focus and find his face.

"Moreau? You okay?"

Of course that's the first thing out of this stupid boy's mouth. He's the type to apologize for the mess when he's bleeding out on the rug, Jean's sure.

"You were the one that was screaming."

"Oh, did I wake you up? Sorry about that." He pushes himself up on shaky arms, reaching for a water bottle he's tucked under his bed. It takes him a few tries to open it. Jean should offer to help, but instead he just stands there, watches Jeremy's mouth on the lip of the bottle, how quickly he stamps the fear down.

Again, Jean asks himself _what does Jeremy Knox have to be afraid of?_

"I haven't woken you up before, have I?"

Jean sees no reason to lie. "Twice."

Jeremy winces. "Shit. Sorry. I'll try to be better about that."

This strikes Jean as so ridiculous that he can't keep his mouth shut. "It's not like nightmares listen to polite requests."

Jeremy actually laughs at that. After all of his fearful noises, his laughter sounds off in the dark room. Too loud and too quiet all at once.

"I guess you're right. Maybe it's time to talk to someone about them. Although they don't usually stick around longer than a few weeks."

The ease at which Jeremy mentions therapy shouldn't surprise Jean, even though he can barely call his therapist such in his head. Everything seems so much easier when you're Jeremy Knox. Even nightmares.

"Do they happen a lot?" He's back on his bed, but not lying down in it yet. Instead he's sitting up, still facing Jeremy. In the dark, it feels like it's okay to stare. He's not sure why he's asking. He doesn't really care about the answer. He just wants to completely erase the sound of Jeremy begging, because he knows exactly what kind of dreams he'll have, if he goes back to sleep with that in his ears. Same words, different tongue, laughter like a knife. The type of failure that stings and burns.

And Jeremy, captain of a Class 1 Exy team, fearless beacon of sportsmanship and talking too much, actually trips over his words at his question.

"What? No, not that often. I mean, they're not a big deal. Before I had a roommate, I didn't even really think about them much."

Not a big deal. Sure. "You were screaming." Jean doesn't know why he's pushing it. There's something about the dark that makes his fear... not go away. It never goes away. But it makes it tangible. He's already afraid. Nothing he does now can make it worse.

"Yeah, I... Um." He laughs, but it's softer, self deprecating. "It's silly. It's going to sound really dramatic."

"Dramatic, you? I'm shocked."

Jeremy stares at him. "Jean Moreau, was that a joke?"

He's just as surprised as Jeremy, honestly, although he likes to think he keeps that off of his face. He doesn't say anything, and Jeremy starts to fiddle with his water bottle, spinning the cap loose and tight and loose again.

"I worry about my friends a lot," he says finally.

Jean doesn't know what this has to do with anything.

"Last year you got here at such a busy time, I was too focused, I guess. But now that things have settled down... Like I said, usually it only lasts a week or two. Sorry, I know it's kinda weird."

Wait.

"Your nightmares are... about me?"

Jeremy nods.

"Why?"

He means _why do you care so much,_ but Jeremy misunderstands.

"Sometimes Day doesn't call me. Sometimes you go back, or they come to take you back..."

Jean tenses, because he never once thought that while he was shaking awake, clenching his jaw to bite back the screams, the boy beside him was dreaming about the same things.

"Like I said. It's really dramatic. I'm sorry."

"No."

Jeremy blinks, and looks back over at Jean. There's fear in his eyes, and Jean doesn't know why, can't figure out what Jeremy is afraid of.

"No, that is... _Merci_. Thank you. For caring."

For taking that call. For telling Kevin Day yes. For the roof over his head and the racket in his hands and the team at his back. For everything.

It's hard to tell, in just the low light of the hallway outside their dorm leaking under the door and the moon shining through the small window, but Jean thinks Jeremy might be blushing.

"You don't have to thank me for that. You're my teammate. It's what anyone would have done."

It's not. Jean has the scars to prove it.

He doesn't know how to put that into words.

"Don't worry about waking me up," he says instead. "I get them too."

In the shadows of their dorm, they share a smile. There's more understanding in that smile than Jean ever thought was possible.

"Okay. Cool. Sleep well, Jean."

"And you."

The nightmares don't go away. Jeremy isn't _magic._ But they're easier to bear, now. Jean worries a little less about accidentally letting a whimper slip. Improvement in his case is a slow process. But night by night, the wounds heal. He learns to live twelve hours a day. He relearns how to sleep, what his own time feels like. And always there with a smile, with a kind word, is Jeremy Knox.

Jean knows addicts often swap one addiction for a lesser one. He could do a lot worse than this, he thinks. This isn't so bad at all.


End file.
